


A Position of Weakness

by orionstarlight



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Golden Crown, Multi, golden rings, golden throne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orionstarlight/pseuds/orionstarlight
Summary: He sees himself as a benevolent king, or at least in his ‘humble’ opinion, even if there are rumours in other parts of the world that he murdered his beloved to be crowned before she could produce an heir.Of course, silly statements like that have been denied and buried as deeply as possible. Just because someone once said all publicity is good publicity doesn’t mean Julian can afford such horrible things being passed on to others. Some risks just aren’t worth taking.-----Jaskier as a king au, based on a prompt/tweet by @/gayjaskier on twitter ;)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	A Position of Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> I was just all around very excited to write this and it's probably one of the more solid things I've written for a month. Here's the tweet this is based on!:
> 
> 'jaskier sitting on his big golden throne with his golden crown on his head and fingers full of golden rings thank you'

* * *

  
He’s glad he finally sucked up the courage to do what needed to be done. The throne fits him far better than it did his now ex-wife. Such a shame she fell ill with an unknown sickness, truly a tragedy. Even Yennefer couldn’t find a cure, the most powerful mage in the kingdom. Now the burden of ruling Bardinia has fallen to him.

“Oh, that is gorgeous, don’t you think?” asks Julian, admiring the newest gold ring on his hand. “Fits in right with the others as well, I admire that attention to detail. My hand will be too heavy to lift soon!”

His hearty chuckle fills the hollow room, his voice the only sound in the silence. He could talk about himself for years, rather in love with the reflection he sees every day in the mirror. In fact, he’s usually the main topic of conversation in the kingdom anyway, but other than a few remarks about his vanity, you’ll never hear someone say what they really think of him. Word carries itself around far quicker than one would expect.

“Your Majesty, have you made a decision?”

Yennefer’s voice is soft in his ear, barely there, but that ensures only he hears her whispers. “I have. You may marry in the royal gardens. Consider your union blessed.”

He waves the pair off, hushing down his mantle cape, deeply in love with how his rings feel on the fur. He adjusts his crown so that it sits just a little lopsided on his head, just one hair out of place, giving him the image he’s going for: perfect that doesn’t look like perfect. It’s a subtle thing, one he learned a long time ago and has not since forgotten.

He sees himself as a benevolent king, or at least in his ‘humble’ opinion, even if there are rumours in other parts of the world that he murdered his beloved to be crowned before she could produce an heir. Of course, silly statements like that have been denied and buried as deeply as possible. Just because someone once said all publicity is good publicity doesn’t mean Julian can afford such horrible things being passed on to others. Some risks just aren’t worth taking.

“Is that everyone, Yenn, or can I retire for the night?”

“Just one more. A witcher at that,” she smiles, knowing that he can never resist special visitors. She’s been by his side for years, the two of them leaning on each other for anything they might need to better their fate.

The man is dragged in, ten guards holding him in his bonds so he doesn’t escape, everyone in the court giving their undivided attention to the scene playing out before them. In Bardinia witchers are no longer allowed to carry out their duties before announcing their purpose to the court and are given the reigning monarch’s blessing to stay, so it’s no wonder he’s in chains. King Julian is not going to be pleased. He’s never tolerated unwelcome guests.

He snaps his fingers. “Eyes!” The head is raised and sure enough, two golden orbs stare back at him, but his attention is captivated by something different. Yenn can feel it, as can the witcher, but not a word leaves the king’s lips. He murmurs a few words to his trusted mage and she nods, heading out.

“I would like a moment alone with a prisoner.”

“Your Majesty-”

“That is a direct order. Have him brought to my private solar room.”

With that, he stands, once more adjusting his crown and rings, cape following his feet as he departs from court. About this, the entire kingdom surely will be talking, whether or not he wants word to get around. He doesn’t know if he’s making the right decision, but Julian has never let an opportunity slip by his fingers. If anything were to go wrong, he can have Yennefer by his side in a minute to protect him, though he doubts he’ll need it.

He doesn’t pace, just calmly stares out at the grounds of the castle where the newly engaged couple are walking home, clearly delighted that their choice of venue was approved. Even without the gift of the ring Julian would have said yes. He was in love once, despite what others may believe about his ‘heart of ice’.

The mage places a delicate hand on his shoulder. “A single thing feels off, you call for me, Julian. Don’t put your life on the line for him.”

“I promise. Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust. Please, don’t underestimate him.” She kisses his cheek just before the witcher is brought in, tied up and left alone with the king.

“I hadn’t realised there were new rules here. You’ll have to forgive my ignorance.”

“Such a small request, simply undeniable… As if you aren’t sure I’m still capable of forgiveness now that there’s a crown on my head. Or, well, one of them at least. The heaviest one is locked away and reserved for ceremonies,” Julian says, fingers working on the locks, a hairpin of his completely immersed in trying to free him.

The witcher grabs the king’s wrist, stopping him.

“Jaskier.”

“I want to talk person to person, not human to monster,” he snaps. He takes the crown off his head, undoes his cape, and the chains fall to the floor, the witcher free. Neither of them is restrained anymore, and if the witcher chose to attack, then Julian wouldn’t be safe, and he certainly wouldn’t call back Yennefer to save him. He would give in, even if it meant death.

But the witcher doesn’t attack, he would never place an ill-meaning hand on the new king. To willingly inflict pain onto him would hurt him more in theory, and he’s going to stay as far back as he possibly can, lest he wish to harm the man in front of him. He hasn’t held him in what seems like forever, but he knows he probably won’t ever hold him again. He truly is too much of a monster for that to happen.

Years have passed since they last met. Time has passed, thrown them in a thousand different directions and fate has kept their paths from crossing whenever they got close. The world hasn’t been kind to them, not really, and to bring them together now surely must be some sort of test. A test of chastity, to refrain from touch and feelings, to only go so far as to discuss business and how they’ve come to be where they are now.

“I don’t think you’re a monster, Geralt. I never have, never will. You’re so much more to me than that,” he whispers, eyes pleading for something the witcher could not possibly give.

“You’re a king now, Jaskier. Just like you always wanted, and you managed to do it without me.”

The man’s nails dig into the palms of his hands. “Because you gave me no choice. I wasn’t the one who left in the middle of the night, possessions left behind, only a sword on my back and not a single word goodbye. I had to learn to survive without you by my side.”

Tense might be the only way to describe the situation. They’ve both never been quite skilled at confessing what is in their hearts and on their minds.

“A throne suits you well. I’m happy for you.” Julian turns away, looking out of the window again, but the happy couple is gone, vanished long before Geralt was brought into the room. There is nothing to distract him from this new reality anymore.

“I won’t punish you,” he sniffs, knowing full well the witcher knows he’s in a position of weakness, the tears just on the edge. “You’ll do what you came here to do and you’ll leave, never to come back, understood?”

“Jaskier-”

“And stop calling me that!” The tears turn to ones of anger. “You lost the privilege to call me that when you left. It’s either Julian or Your Majesty, you can choose, but that nickname… it’s off-limits. For _good_.”

He used to whisper it late into the night when the two of them were fighting off sleep, desperate to be in each other’s presence for as long as possible. It left chills on his skin after they finished making love. It would wake him up in the morning along with the feeling of security that came from being wrapped up in Geralt’s arms.

It reminds him of all that he once felt, of all that he vowed never to feel again.

Love… it doesn’t give up on you, even when you wish it would. It haunts you, like a shadow always walking two steps behind you as you run, run to find a future where you needn’t hide from it, but no such future exists. All that he wishes he could escape finds its way back to him, worming its way into his heart, infecting him. Ultimately, knowing he would never be free of the witcher and what he does to him is what changed him.

He stands tall, absentmindedly tracing over the rings on his fingers. He takes his cloak and places it perfectly on his shoulders, his crown just a little lopsided like it always is. Geralt watches him move around the room with grace as he reconstructs his image, and the way he cares for every placement of the curls on his head. Thought goes into presenting himself, every move calculated.

“You’re right, Witcher. A throne does suit me,” he smirks, pushing all that pain and love down deep where he doesn’t have to think about it. “I have everyone in the kingdom wrapped around my little finger, obeying my every word and listening to what I have to say like I’m God himself preaching.

“I like the power I have. It feels glorious, intoxicating. I wouldn’t give it up even if you offered me the world. I’m more at home here than I have ever been anywhere else. I used to be nothing more than a fool in love, but now… now I’m a king! Respected, feared, beloved! I am more than you could ever be.”

“You’re everything except yourself,” he says, unable to hold back any longer. A comment on the ‘new and improved’ Jas- Julian had to be made.

The hand itself won’t leave a mark on the witcher’s face, but the rings upon it will leave imprints lasting for a few days at least. Geralt was afraid of hurting his ex-lover, but the king was not. No, he wants Geralt to feel every ounce of hatred in his bones, to understand the torture he was put through.

He grabs him roughly by the jaw, making those golden eyes look into his made of blue fire. “I am what you made me,” he spits. “If you deny that you’re more stupid than I think you are. You don’t know me anymore, Geralt, so don’t pretend you do.”

The witcher twists his arm behind his back, tested and reacting poorly to being manhandled, being pushed around like an object. To hell with not wanting to lay an ill-meaning hand on Julian -- some people need to be taught a lesson

“Coward,” he hisses.

“He is no coward.” Yennefer’s hand is up, fingers catching Geralt’s eyes. “Now let His Majesty go. Don’t pass a point of no return.”

“I’m surprised you lasted this long by his side. I would have thought you’d have killed him after killing his wife for him,” says Geralt, letting Julian go and walking up to her, having also stayed far from her for years. Still as beautiful as the day he met her.

“You’d be surprised what communication can do for people. You could learn a thing or two before you leave.”

The witcher chuckles, tracing her hair with his fingers. Still soft. “Oh, I’ll leave. But don’t count on me taking any advice from someone with corrupted values.”

Geralt doesn’t even give either of them a glance as he heads out the door, far away from the two people who always make him irrational. He would much prefer to be alone than in their company, and once he finishes in Bardinia he’ll be just that.

“Julian!” Yennefer holds onto her friend tightly, squeezing the breath out of him. She checks him over, making sure there isn’t so much as a red mark anywhere on his pale skin. Despite the fuss he makes that he’s fine, she’s barely satisfied, but it’s out of the goodness of her heart.

People will always say what they want to since fear eventually loses its hold over them, but she knows the truth. Julian is a good man with a broken heart, and he’s healing as fast as he can while still having the strength to do the things that need to be done. He didn’t become a king by being soft and malleable -- he became a kind because there is a fire inside of him, a fire that won’t go out for a very long time, not if she doesn’t let it. As long as they are together, neither of them will ever again be weak.

* * *

He keeps his word. As soon as the task is done, the White Wolf is never heard from again, not anywhere. Some say he died, some don’t even say his name out of fear of offending the king, and some say he’s still out there, watching his two old lovers live a rich life from afar as he thinks about all that could have been.

**Author's Note:**

> [my ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/erissapphic)


End file.
